


The Sparrow, the Warrior, and the Poet

by Dreamer372, InterNutter



Category: Church (Short Film 2019)
Genre: Forming polycule, Found Family, Multi, OT3, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tortured Past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:38:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22914781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamer372/pseuds/Dreamer372, https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterNutter/pseuds/InterNutter
Summary: Ahnmivah had a reputation for flirting. He would smoothly sweet-talk everyone he met to the point where he was known locally as a sparrow. It fit him, flitting from partner to partner like a sparrow hopping between branches. He honestly believed he would never settle down.Then he met... THEM.An Intseh who didn't know how to be Intseh, and a human force of nature in easy-to-carry packaging. His life would never be the same.
Relationships: Ashivon/Ahnmivah, Sanga/Ahnmivah, Sanga/Ashivon
Comments: 16
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Toasty owns the universe and the canonical characters, as well as the skeleton of the plot. We did everything else over less than a week. Be warned.

The morning that the strangers came to the city, Ahnmivah didn’t think that much of it. He had been idly flirting with a shopkeeper when all the ruckus started and he didn’t see the source until they were getting scooped up by Tselah’s dads.

“Hel-lo, Tochva…” he purred under his breath. This muscular stranger was _ built, _ and very, very fit. He was speculating about some opening lines when he spotted the fangless.

He’d heard about them, it was hard _ not _ to hear about them in a port city, but this one… given the tales told about them, he thought they’d be… bigger. If he could pick three words for this stranger, they would be ‘small’, ‘brown’, and ‘intense’. Something about that oddly curvilinear form seemed concentrated.

Ahnmivah primped his hair a little and slid into their field of view, putting on his best smile. “Did you two just wash up on the shore? Because you both look like the biggest treasure I have ever seen.”

“We… walk in boat,” said the fangless.

“Travel by boat,” said the big fellow. He shied a little away from Ahnmivah’s offered hand.

“Ignore him,” said Charlah. “He’s like that with everyone.”

“A born sparrow,” dismissed Ashivrahari, “hopping to every branch and never making a nest.”

The smile never fell. “Good company is fun, and I _ love _ good fun,” he said. In three hours, he and the two strangers would be meeting the cold glare of the city Judges with their terrified eyes.

Strictly speaking, examined very closely, it wasn’t exactly anyone’s _ fault. _ Nobody was precisely to blame. It was a series of badly-timed events. Things _ just happened _ that way. Nobody could have known. Well. Somebody could have known. Somebody _ did _ know. It’s just that that somebody was a child who was -at the time he could intervene- busy being overwhelmed by parental affection. And anyway, children were meant to learn, not teach.

Ahnmivah hadn’t even meant to follow the new strangers. He _ just happened _ to be headed the same way. He wasn’t paying attention, not really. He certainly wasn’t lurking in anticipation of hitting up the big hunk at minimum and asking what he was interested in. He definitely wasn’t contemplating curiosity with the fangless just to see what she might be like…

_ What did that empty, unfuzzy skin feel like anyway? _

He certainly wasn’t listening to see what the story was behind Tselah’s extended absence and following surprise return. Knowing a story like that certainly wasn’t worth anyone’s time or companionship, no matter how temporary. He wasn’t even trying to find anything out.

Ahnmivah didn’t even know how emotional the big fellow -Ashivon- was. He’d definitely missed all of that by the time the flirting was done. He was completely innocent, not knowing the chaos that was about to rain down.

He had only meant to be friendly, anyway.

Charlah and Ashivrahari certainly should have listened to their son. He did try to warn them. They were too busy fussing over him and asking questions about his health and wellbeing to listen as they started to haul him off to the nearest herbalist for a thorough checking. If anyone should be blamed, it might as well be the fleas that caused the initial parental panic.

It certainly wasn’t _ his _ fault for asking Ashivon or his fangless companion -Sahnkah? Something like that- if they wanted to have some fun.

They were definitely an odd pair, those two. Ashivon was definitely foreign for sure. From an Intseh colony so far away and so different that he didn’t understand anything, the poor beautiful soul. It couldn’t be _ their _ fault since neither of them knew anything about this city, the customs, or most of the language, apparently. They were being very quiet and, in Ahnmivah’s experience, it was the quiet people who turned out to be the most interesting variety of fun.

So, when Charlah, Ashivrahari, and Tselah whisked off towards some form of assistance with the fleas, Ahnmivah took a clear opportunity.

“Would either of you beautiful people like to have some fun?”

Both Ashivon and Sahnka -in unison- turned to see if he was talking to someone behind them. Adorable.

“Fun?” Echoed Sahnkah as if hearing the word for the first time. For all he knew, she could be doing just that.

“Good times,” he tried. “What do you like?”

Ashivon took his turn. “I… like… snow?”

Well… fine? He could swing this. They were foreigners. They had to want to learn about things or… why else would they be here? “I can show you something fun,” he offered. “It’s a simple child’s game. What could go wrong?”

In retrospect, he should not have asked that question. He should have known a little more about either Ashivon or Sahnkah before he tried anything. If he’d known even one thing about either of them, he might have tried literally anything else.

What he did was teach them the street version of kickball. Well. There was an _ attempt _ to teach them the street version of kickball. Ashivon seemed to study it all like a philosopher discovering a new variety of insect. Sahnkah, on the other hand, viewed it as some form of competition and kicked the ball with every atom of her strength.

The ball shot forward like a pip from a citrus. It flew past Ashivon, who had dropped to the ground in a tight huddle, screaming and crying as he did so. It rebounded off two walls before smashing someone’s shutters and causing utter chaos in a pottery shop. It _ still _ had enough impetus to cross the street _ again _ and smash through seemingly every single display of soft, seasonal fruit in the luckless vendor there. Afterwards, it bounced off Ahnmivah’s head, shooting for the clouds, knocking out a passing duck, before shooting back down to Sahnkah.

Who leaped up, somersaulted, and kicked it towards about seven other vendors at speeds previously unimaginable.

Which ones were ruined after that, and in what order were beyond Ahnmivah’s ability to recall, because mere seconds after that, Sahnkah landed on him, elbows first.

* * *

“And who was responsible for the damaged window and the several broken wares in the earthen wares shop and the innumerable amounts of lost food and the damaged emotional state of one duck?” The Head Councilman asked. Ahnmivah looked at the other two and saw the way that they practically trembled in the open foyer. Ashivon looked like he was about to throw up and Sanga was holding onto him. She glowered at everyone like she was ready to fight them if they came any closer.

Ahnmivah raised his head, partially used to this court already. “I am. You all know my track record, I simply can’t control myself,” He purred. He heard Ashivon take in a sharp breath and he practically felt Sanga’s eyes boring into him. He could only hope that they’d allow him to explain and tell their own story.

The council grumbled in annoyance and the several whispers echoed through the court. Ahnmivah listened closely to each, wondering about his punishment this time. Last time he pulled some shenanigans like this, he was forced to clean out the livery stable from top to bottom and he stunk for _weeks._

One particular whisper began to bounce around the room and he straightened as he heard it. Eventually, the head councilman banged his gavel, making Ashivon flinch again. The official stood. “Ahnmivah, it is by some minor miracle that we have managed to come to an agreement quickly. It is by the the council’s decision that you will look after these two as they begin to settle their way into our culture. We do ask that you keep your ways out of this punishment as we cannot bear another being with the same mishappenings as yours, let alone _two._ This will continue on and will be evaluated by the council every three months until we deem these two can function without aid. It will be at that point that any further details will be discovered, but until then, from sunrise to sundown, you are to accompany these two and keep them… out of trouble. Failure to do this will result in more suited community service, are we understood?”

Ahnmivah bowed, “Clearly. I thank the council for your humble decision and take on this duty wholehearted.” At least, in all his time in the council, he had learned the proper lines.

“As you were, Ahnmivah. You all are dismissed,” The councilman declared and pounded the gavel one more time. Ahnmivah rose and he turned to the other two, ushering them out quietly. When they met the sun, Ashivon relaxed slightly and Sanga edged him towards a wall. She held his hands and rubbed his arms.

_“Hey, Ashivon, you’re safe. You’re not in trouble,”_ She soothed in an odd language. Ashivon shuddered and his head gently lowered down until the tips of his hair touched her forehead. Sanga smiled and stood on tiptoe to connect their skin and it was at this point that Ahnmivah realized Ashivon was crying.

“Hey, are you alright? The council may be stiff, but they’re fair,” He said gently. Sanga looked over, but her eyes trailed down. Ahnmivah hummed, “Hey, do you guys want to find something else to do? Something… less destructive?”

Ashivon nodded slowly and wiped his eyes, “Like what? Reading?”

Ahnmivah paused, but shrugged, “Sure. I can take you to the library. What do you like to read?”

“I don’t… understand… this language,” Ashivon tried. Sanga pat his hand and turned to the large man.

She smiled weakly, “He want to learn. Can you help him?”

Ahnmivah smiled, “With reading? I can help in a great many ways and reading is just one of them. Poetry is my favorite.” He winked and took a deep breath, “‘And it is in this day that the sun cast her shining rays upon the beautiful and graceful, and not even in her perfection could she ever hope to match the muse that created these two.’”

Sanga blinked in a stupor, but Ashivon’s breath caught. He shrank and Sanga finally seemed to catch up to what he was saying. She burst into laughter and Ahnmivah smiled. He had people laugh in his face before, but this was not directed _ at _ him, but rather _ for _ him. She wiped away a tear and grinned, “If I understanded half of what you say, you’re-!” She shook her head and chuckled. 

“Cheeky? Only for those who deserve it,” He replied. Sanga laughed again and while both caught the slight blush on her cheeks, neither understood it. Ahnmivah looked back at Ashivon, “So, are we off to the library?” Ashivon nodded and they followed. The entire way, Ahnmivah began to explain various buildings and some of the misadventures the town had. How once, a child- _ Who shall remain unnamed, he insisted _\- had removed the door of the lighthouse and used it to go sledding down through the center of town. Or how someone released all the town’s chickens into the town square and they were still finding rotten eggs years later. By the time they reached the library, he had Sanga and Ashivon completely relaxed and laughing at the odd stories.


	2. Chapter 2

They had a quiet grove near the library. Ahnmivah had some children’s readers from baby’s first books (lightly chewed) to starter encyclopaedias with pictures and extremely simple explanations of what they were. Sanga had acquired a piece of slate and a piece of chalk from a couple of vendors and a scrap of cloth from a third. Of the two, Sanga was the most energetic. Keeping her attention was definitely a hurdle.

Ashivon… seemed inclined to cower. He shrank, he stooped, he attempted to use the much smaller Sanga as a shield. Given the destruction wrought with one kickball, Ahnmivah could begin to believe that she could toss around most Intseh like a rag doll. The trouble with Ashivon was definitely going to be luring him out of his “tall dark and quiet” shell.

“I expect to learn some things while I teach,” he said. “I teach you reading and writing… and you teach me that strange language of yours.”

“Nital,” said Sanga.

“Cough be off,” he said, almost automatically. Then he realised that it was an actual word. “Sorry. I need to learn to listen better. Your language is very new to me. Nee… thaaal?”

“Nital,” corrected Ashivon. He added, “Sanga teach me. Sanga teach you.”

The whirlwind of destructive energy was capable of sitting still long enough to teach anything? Sanga laughed at the look on his face, and the more stoic Ashivon even cracked a smirk.

“It has been long time,” said Sanga. “Ashivon help me. I help Ashivon.” She intermeshed her fingers, pulling her hands into a knot.  _ “Team.” _

“Team,” translated Ashivon.

A very close team. Ahnmivah had no idea how to get into that knot, if it was a good idea, or what he could potentially ruin by trying. He’d started these shenanigans by wanting to have some fun. Now he was facing the spectre of spending quality time with an intricately connected  _ couple. _ Two people who had relied upon each other as the only friend in, as far as he understood the disjointed story, hostile territory.

As the two foreigners learned to read, he learned more horrors about where they had been. How they had needed each other. How close they were.

He couldn’t possibly meddle in what they had.

Damn him for growing a conscience  _ now. _

In a week, he could begin to sense what could keep them out of trouble once they got the hang of literacy.

* * *

The idea came as he tried to remember something he enjoyed what didn’t cause a lot of problems one night and his eyes settled on an old conch shell. It had been a surprise from a grandparent. They had the tradition of taking him for the weekend during the summer and at least one full morning would be spent scouring the seaweed of the nearby tidal pools at low tide. With all the seaweed hiding everything underneath them, there were a plethora of various shells, trinkets and small treasures and it wasn’t until later that he learned that his grandparent had sunk off in the dead of night when the tide was beginning to sink down that he would go and hide those treasures.

He smiled and decided that… maybe Sanga and Ashivon deserved a bit of treasure too. He wandered his home and collected a few things: a few rings he wouldn’t miss, a few large and pretty shells and some sea glass he had found even without his grandparent’s aid. With these items in hand, he set off for the tidal pools and began hiding the treasures.

The next morning, Sanga and Ashivon were a little curious to see why he had a rather large bucket and was leading them to the beach. The tide was at its lowest and he grinned to see that one of the things he had ‘hidden’ was still there. He turned around, “So, this is one of my favorite places in the Devan-Intseh, and I thought I’d share a bit of a myth. This beach is full of treasure, but you have to find it. Do you two want to look?”

Sanga’s eyes twinkled as she looked over the sand and sea matter and she practically leapt into it. Her hands combed through it and she soon gasped and pulled up a small silver ring. “Ashivon! Ahnmivah! I found something?”

Ashivon’s eyebrows lifted and he gestured her back over, “What did you find?”

She held it out, “A circle!”

Ahnmivah chuckled, “That’s a ring, Sanga.” She stuck her tongue out and he elbowed her, “Don’t humans propose with those? Thinking of anyone? Eh? Eh?” 

She blushed and pouted and Ashivon’s eyebrows rose. He relaxed and held his hand out, “ _ Let’s see what else we can find. _ Find me something too?” Sanga looked up and stuffing the ring into his hand, she ran off again. Ashivon rolled it around in his hand and smiled at Ahnmivah. “Thank you for showing us this place. It is… nice. Quiet,” He said. He looked over the horizon and his eyes glazed over slightly. Ahnmivah tensed as he saw the aching look. 

“You don’t deserve to wear that look, hutlah,” He mumbled quietly. Ashivon seemed to snap out of it and he blinked.

“What you say?” He asked. Ahnmivah waved him off and began to walk along the beach. He held out a section of the bucket and Ashivon helped him carry it. 

He needed it, because either Sanga was much better at finding her definition of treasure, or she was practically a crow. Ashivon grinned when he saw all the pretty trinkets that she brought back. After a while, Ahnmivah had to call her back in before the tide got too high. She did so reluctantly, but they returned to the path and dumped out the bucket. 

The two foreigners began the very careful and rather childish game of dividing the found goods. To Ahnmivah’s absolute surprise, they were carefully picking things and putting a few into a third and fourth pile. The third was mostly pretty stones and shells, but the fourth held more of the rings he had given up, and ones he  _ knew _ he didn’t own, and a single earring that Sanga had practically stabbed herself in the foot with. He cocked his head as he considered who it might be for. As far as he was aware, Charlah and Ashivrahari didn’t have pierced ears, and no one else they would have known…

He blinked in surprise as Sanga and Ashivon pushed the pile to him. “I-I don’t- I appreciate it, but why?”

Sanga shrugged, “You show us our place. We are happy and want to thank.”

Ashivon nodded, “You didn’t need to show us this place, but you shared it. We share.”

“No cir- ring fit,” Sanga also justified. She picked one up and slipped it on, but it only fell off. Ahnmivah smiled and carefully held out his hands. Sanga and Ashivon shared a look, but gave him one of theirs. Ahnmivah scouted through the pile and found three rings. One was more of a tail ring for a child, but it fit Sanga well enough and Ashivon’s hand matched a ring that Ahnmivah had won at a fair years ago. He put them on and put his own on.

Lifting his hand, he grinned, “We share the good!” Sanga rolled her eyes and held up her hands with her pinkies raised. Ashivon seemed to understand and raised his own, grinning happily. He linked a pair of their fingers together.

They looked to Ahnmivah expectantly. “Friend promise,” Sanga said. Ahnmivah raised an eyebrow, but did the same. Sanga giggled and pulled away to roll on the dirt path. Ashivon rolled his eyes at her antics and Ahnmivah laughed. He played with the ring on his finger and decided that these two weren’t half bad. They were fun to hang out with.


	3. Chapter 3

They were friends. Just friends. Ashivon and Sanga were… the people next door. Very good friends. Rising before dawn and causing a small ruckus like any other neighbour. Ahmivah, wearing only the kirtle he used to answer the door, stumbled out onto his upper landing to figure out what the HELLS his new friends were doing up before the first sparrow could fart. It took him a few minutes to make his eyes work, and a few more for his sleepy brain to process it but… Ashivon, Sanga, and Tselah were out in their garden performing some form of ritual calisthenics.

How… in the name of all decency… did Sanga  _ do _ it? She was relentless! She had more get up and go than an entire army put together.

On the other hand, he could see it had results. No wonder Ashivon was so well sculpted. He had to keep up with Sanga. Even little Tselah was looking formidable. He could almost do an entire somersault from a standing start like the other two. He had to catch himself with his hands, while the watching Ahmnivah couldn’t even contemplate a single jump this early in the morning.

Ahnmivah yawned, rubbed his eyes, and leaned on the balustrade. Appreciating the view. Sanga had some very interesting jiggly bits as she moved around. Almost hypnotic. He could also appreciate the play of muscles under fur or skin as the two adults moved around.

Oh small gods’ mercies, they were doing handstand press-ups. Though Tselah was just doing handstands.

“Now you’re just showing off,” he complained.

“Better than looking up your skirt,” chirped Tselah. “You forgot your underwear.”

Only now did Ahnmivah remember how  _ short _ his door-answering kirtle was. Someone -say- down in the neighbouring yard, could see everything he was pretending to conceal.

_ FUCK! _

Ahnmivah, fully awake through the forces of unadulterated panic, zipped back inside to quickly don the minimum acceptable garments. Underwear for certain. A pair of pants that he thought looked fabulous, and just a few shiny things just in case he had to go out like that. He pretended to have a relaxed attitude and feigned a slightly arrogant saunter as he emerged once more.

“Better?”

“A much better view,” said Ashivon.

Ahmivah pretended that his heart was  _ not _ exploding at that comment. “How… long… do you just… jump around and yell?”

“Not yelling,” said Sanga, whose Intsehli was improving. “Focus.”

He leaned on the railing. “Is there a way to focus so that others can sleep?”

A bleary, rumpled Ashivrahari, leaning out a window, mumbled, “I was wondering the same thing.”

“Come down. Try,” said Sanga. “I teach. I teach good.”

It was too damn early to get that sweaty. Not without some pleasure to go with. Sadly, that particular boon was not his to reach for. What was it with his want of pastries on the highest shelf? Or, for instance, the wares under the glass cover, worth far beyond anything he could ever earn.

On the other hand, some kind of training with Sanga might be… exhilarating. He could, for instance, study her jiggly bits at a much closer range. And, when he needed a break, he could scooch up next to Ashivon and help him read some poetry.

Their company alone was treasure enough, right?

Soaking up their happiness by being in their blissful aura would be enough, right?

He pondered it as he went, fetching wrap draped around his torso, with buckets and probes to inspect the shores. He couldn’t salt the pools  _ every _ evening, but Sanga had a knack for spotting anything at all that gleamed. Her people must be descended from jackdaws or bower birds or the like. She was just drawn to anything shiny. Ashivon would sometimes wade into the ocean, up to his knees, and quietly stalk a fish that mistook his shadow for somewhere safe to lurk.

Other days, he would stick with the pools and wash sand through his hands.

After five days of watching this, Ahnmivah needed to know. “What are you doing? Washing sand?”

“Sanga taught me this,” he said. “Sand is lighter than other things. It washes away, and leaves other things.”

Gleaming in his palm were two shells and five metal beads, and ten more ceramic ones.

“Sanga knows a lot of things,” noted Ahnmivah. “How?”

“It is hard to keep her attention on one subject, you know. So she knows a little about a lot of things…” a fond smile, “and remembers erratically.”

Sanga was holding up a wriggling  _ something _ by its tail. “IS THIS EDIBLE?”

Waaah! That shit was poisonous!  _ And _ venomous! “Throw it in the ocean before it bites you! Small GODS,  _ please!” _ Keeping up with Sanga was a full time job. He was running to try and help her before he realised that he was running  _ towards _ a person holding a dangerously venomous snakefish.

He  _ was _ keeping them out of trouble. That was true. However, he was running himself into exhaustion. By the time he was close enough to grab Sanga, she had already hurled a confused snakefish out into the waves. He was also incredibly out of breath.

“...maybe… I should…” he gasped, “train… withyou. Just… not… that… early.”

“Children and the sick train in the afternoon,” she playfully poked his belly. “I think you could count as sick.”

At least catching his breath was a little easier, though losing it again was as simple as looking at either Sanga or Ashivon. They were very aesthetically pleasing. He could easily -and often did- forget that they were an unbreakable team. A solid codependent unit. A made pair.

“You can start today,” said Sanga. “Starter Kata. Stand… so.”

Ahnmivah did his best. Ashivon laughed at him. “No. Straight. No leaning over to look at Sanga.”

“If you leaning like that you fall over.”

“I’m not--” and then he lost his balance. Ashivon caught him and, just for a second, Ahnmivah almost went for a kiss.  _ They’re a forged pair. Not mine. Never mine. _

* * *

He almost wanted to question that when they presented him with a seashell necklace. He hadn’t been able to plant stuff the night before, but when Sanga declared when she had found something pretty in a manner far too scripted, he figured she did. 

She waved her arm and held up something that twinkled in the light and Ashivon cocked his head in amusement. Sanga bounded over, leaping over a slippery patch of rocks, and she brought it over. “Look what I find! Look what I find!” In better view, Ahnmivah gapped as he looked at the necklace. It was very carefully strung on tough thread and a variety of trinkets hung. Shiny shells, carefully polished sea glass, and some of the more decorative beads that they had found. 

The center bead was a bright blue, something that wasn’t lost on the man. They must have heard from Charlah that during the masked festival, he would usually don the lover’s mask and try to match make or flirt himself. Either that or Tselah would be joining properly this time and they wanted to get his opinion first. Speaking of which, he’d need to speak to them about costumes soon. But right now, he needed to deal with the necklace.

He cooed over it, “That looks so pretty! I wonder who dropped it, but it’s not as beautiful as it’s finder.” Sanga chuckled and Ashivon rolled his eyes, both already used to this. 

Ashivon shook his head, “Sanga?”

“Ahnmivah, get on knees?” She asked. 

He burst into laughter, “As you wish.” He winked and Sanga thought about what she said before sputtering a choked laugh. She walked around her friend’s knelt form and carefully did the clasp and Ahnmivah wanted to think that her fingers brushed against his skin or lingered for a moment too long, but that could have been his own imaginings. She took a step back and he stood, able to get a closer look at it. 

It was even more beautiful up close and he could see where careful holes were pierced through the shell and he smiled. There was a slight divot where someone’s claw extended slightly and he had a sneaking suspicion that Ashivon was the one to put the holes in them while Sanga strung it. He smiled and looked at the two. They shifted nervously and he grinned, “Thank you both.” He reached to pull them into a hug, but moved slowly for Ashivon. They chuckled and leaned into it, wrapping all of them together, and for a fleeting moment, Ahnmivah felt like he was a part of their team, but… it was only a moment. 

He couldn’t delusion himself.

And speaking of the festival, he’d need to get them thinking about what they wanted to wear… But also about the upcoming court meeting. It wasn’t for a while yet, he still had to get them thinking about it. Sanga probably forgot abd Ashivon might want to do some reading into it, but Ahnmivah wanted to give them time. He could only hope that when it was time for them to go, they wouldn’t forget him.

“Thank you, I love it,” He breathed. He let them go and cocked his head, “Did someone tell you I’m usually the lover for the Masked Festival?”

They pulled apart and Sanga cocked her head, “No? And what masked festival?”

Ahnmivah stiffened, “The masked festival is a holiday where people dress up and fill roles. There’s the fighter, and that’s more of a dance than actual fight, and seeing them move is so… hypnotic. They usually wear red. Then there’s the commander…” He began to list through them, skimming over the lover as much as he could. Sanga cocked her head.

“Could fighters wear something…red but not red? We…” She trailed off, looking at Ashivon. He reached for her hand and squeezed it gently, reminding Ahnmivah that he was still an outsider to these two.

Ahnmivah nodded, suddenly realizing he had never seen these two wear red. “There is bright pink and a darker one that I know some people wear. And it  _ is _ traditional to do it shirtless,” He teased.

Sanga pouted, “You wish. I’m wearing shirt.” Ahnmivah laughed, knowing he’d get this response. 

“I know, I wanted to tease you,” He said with a wink. Sanga laughed and they went off to relax for the rest of the day.


	4. Chapter 4

It had taken a while for Ahnmivah to actually work up the courage to train with Sanga. She was a force of nature in a compact package. Even the games in proper courts knew to fear her prowess with any given competition. Therefore facing Sanga in teaching mode for something physical was truly a test of bravery.

Ahnmivah had, after all, had plenty of time to learn about the casual cruelties of her home. If not her calm and absent-minded tales of torture as a lifestyle, then the scars on Ashivon’s back, seen every morning as they trained, were a clear reminder that they had survived the millstone and come out the other side fully tempered.

Scarred, too. Broken, more than a little, definitely. Yet, also hard. Ahnmivah had learned, through someone else’s bad example, not to surprise Ashivon from behind. It was a close thing that the server at the restaurant didn’t get injured or worse.

_ It had all happened so quickly, and it still haunted Ahnmivah’s nightmares. Tseralinah, their server, had patted Ashivon’s shoulder to ask him to move. He had moved, all right. He moved like an animal. Moved on instinct. Moved… like he expected Tseralinah to kill him, and he had to survive it. _

_ One swipe of a claw, one very lucky dodge… _

_ One fragment of uniform, drifting to the floor like a feather… _

_ Their dinner, cascading to the floor in a cacophony of broken pottery, spilled sauce, and ruined artistry... _

_ Ashivon, wailing in realisation of what he’d nearly done, curled in on himself like a withering flower and tried to hide under the table. Sanga was already with him, speaking softly and rapidly in Nital. Ahnmivah was too stunned to even process what had just happened. So, too, was half the restaurant. _

So much had changed in the weeks since that event, but it still haunted him. Ashivon spent most of his time in quiet serenity. In slow, considered movement. In gentle and careful precision. It was easy -treacherously easy- to forget that he had lived in hell for over half his life.

He was such a natural  _ scholar _ that it was too easy to forget he had been essentially an animal for other fangless to die fighting.

Going through even a portion of all that seemed nightmarish, yet Sanga was a surprisingly patient and understanding teacher.

_ “Sto!” _ Sanga ordered.

Ahnmivah froze in place. “What did I mess up, this time Ishoko?”

“You’re holding it wrong, and I told you to take that necklace off. You clatter. You can’t sneak up on an enemy with bells on your neck. Down.”

“...but I like this one,” he pouted. On the other hand, it did give her license to touch him and her hands and skin fascinated his senses.

“You can like, fine. When battle come? Do not clank.” Did she smooth his fur as she removed the necklace? Did he imagine it? Did he try to subtly inhale her scent as she moved in and out of his range? Yes, at least, to the third question. That one, he knew how to answer. “Stand.”

He stood, and tried not to enjoy it too much as Sanga corrected the way he stood and the way he held the staff. She stood opposite him so he didn’t have to lean to see her, and said, “You know mirror. Be mirror.”

Ahnmivah couldn’t help but smirk. Sanga  _ was _ getting better at Intsehli, but there were moments like this when she could be brutally blunt. He did, indeed, know mirrors. He had spent perhaps an hour finessing his look this morning, trying to isolate the careless look Sanga had perfected. His current light toga and belt  _ was _ more practical, true, but he was sensing a critique in his future. He copied her stance as if he was a mirror.

Ashivon, under a shady tree, had tied up his sleeves and was working on a book. Well. One of his books. He had, at Ahnmivah’s best estimate, four going at once. Ashivon was either reading or writing something and, since he had his pencil, was working on something for the greater erudition of Devan-Intseh. Either that or thoughts for his psychiatrists, which would work for the greater erudition anyway. The town psychiatrists had a rare treasure in Ashivon, since they had few opportunities to study a truly tortured soul.

Ahnmivah didn’t know whether to be relieved that they were leaving  _ him _ alone for a change, or defensively angry that they were now swarming on and bothering Ashivon.

At least he was beginning to understand the power shout. There was just something about putting voice to effort that added some extra push to that effort. He had shocked himself by smashing a stonefruit to pieces, just yesterday.

_ “Unus!” _ Sanga struck a pose with her staff, which Ahnmivah copied.

Giggling from behind a nearby fence indicated that the local children -including Tselah- were watching from a very safe distance. They evidently thought it was hysterical to see someone like local rake Ahnmivah training to be a warrior at the  _ baby level. _

That, and they were here for the same baby level training at varying levels of enthusiasm after Ahnmivah got winded. Which should happen in about half an hour.

_ “Duo!” _ A second pose.

“HUA!” He shouted, feeling proud of himself for learning something and making it stick.

“No hua! Not yet!”

Raucous laughter from the spectators.

He sighed and made the pose.

_ “Tribus!” _ A third.

Just as he was feeling proud of himself, with his muscles aching at the unfamiliar effort. Well, any effort really… he nearly fell over. He corrected his hind foot, and watched in humiliation as Sanga crossed the distance between them to correct his stance.

Her withering glare could make him want to shrink until he imploded. The pat she gave to his arm made his heart want to explode.

_ Not mine, never mine, _ he recited inside his head.  _ Not mine, never mine. _

Nevertheless, his soul was starting to ache with the yearning. He checked on Ashivon and felt a different type.

“No looking at pretty boy. Look at teacher.”

The kits were almost wetting themselves with the resultant hilarity. “I’m here all week,” he said.

“Focus,” chided Sanga.

He did his best.

_ “Tribus!” _

He copied the pose accurately this time.

_ “Quattor!” _ Oh. This was a new one. It took him a little to get his feet and hands right. Which was greeted with a cheer from the audience and the faintest of smiles on Ashivon’s usually stoic face.

“He can count to four,” cheered the gathered children. “Yaaaayyy!”

_ Fucking hells… _ Ahnmivah shook his head and almost succeeded in not laughing at himself. He was, he knew it, looking like an utter fool.

Sanga, too, was trying not to laugh and looking utterly adorable whilst doing so.  _ Not mine, never mine… _ He nodded to her and she nodded to him. From the beginning.

_ “Unus! Duo! Tribus…” _ She waited to see if he caught it and smiled when he did.  _ “Quattor!” _

“Yaaaaaaayyy!” All the children behind the fence cheered. “Mighty warrior!”

Sarcastic little brats…

Sanga made a gesture at them that was probably for adults only where she came from, but thankfully sailed right over the heads of all the other adults in the area. Otherwise, Ahnmivah would be in a lot more trouble, and a lot deeper manure.

It was almost a dance, and Ahnmivah could appreciate it on that level. He would also appreciate a thorough massage when his muscles knotted up and he ached in body as well as spirit.

_ “Unus! Duo! Tribus! Quattor!” _

He did it! He made it all the way to four without messing something up. Even Ashivon paused what he was doing to applaud.

Ahnmivah felt like he could be coated in gold and not have a worthier prize than that applause. He grinned like an absolute fool, and didn’t care a mote about it.

Sanga ran him through the poses in order four more times, so they could both be sure he had it, then started shouting numbers out of order. That messed him up for all of two goes, but he figured it out.

And then she was right up to his face, her own staff clashing against his. Shouting numbers at him and countering them with her own counter-poses. One met three. Two met four. Three blocked one. Four blocked two.

For a handful of glorious seconds, he could imagine himself as a warrior in pitched, yet romantic battle with an evenly matched foe-come-love-interest.

...and then he was out of breath and close to fainting.

Over too soon.

Besides, she was not his. Never would be his. Neither would Ashivon. They were the pair forged in fire. Two halves of a nutshell, protecting their soft and vulnerable parts. They didn’t need his sparrow-type shenanigans in their lives. Hopping on their branch for as long as it was fun and then breaking their hearts when he found more appealing fun elsewhere.

He used his staff to help support his shaking legs on the way to Ashivon… who was fogging out.

Ashivon did this sometimes. Staring out at infinity like a prowman trying to navigate in a thick fog. Body still, but stiff and rigid. If he was breathing hard, then he needed rescuing. If he was just breathing, then he would surface at his own pace.

Shit. He was breathing in a panic. Ahnmivah glanced over to Sanga, who always knew what to do, but she was busy with the noisy and rambunctious kits. Half of them were playing at being teacher-and-student and a decent third didn’t even have the right kind of stick.

Ashivon needed help  _ now _ and he barely had the air to breathe.

_ What would Sanga do? _ He’d seen this before. He just needed to remember all the steps. One. Approach so he could see you. Done. Two. Gently say his name.

“Ashivon? Ashivon… Ashivon, you are safe. Can you hear me?”

Nothing but panting and his fog-eyes. Damn. He responded better to Nital in this state.

“Ashivon…  _ You are safe. Can you hear? Can you see?” _ Close enough, now, to wave a hand in front of his eyes.

_ “See…” _

Oh good. He could talk.  _ “Good Ashivon. See five for me. See five. Say five.” _ He tried to keep the panic out of his voice, but, much like staff practice, Ahnmivah was still learning how to do this properly, and the restaurant incident had left a lasting impression.

Pant pant pant.  _ “See… sky, open sky. See… friend. See Sanga. See… babies. See trees.” _

Okay this was working. He could hear Ashivon’s breath becoming less laboured already.  _ “Good. Good Ashivon good. Hear four for me. Hear four. Say four.” _ Meanwhile, Ahnmivah worked on  _ his _ breathing because the next step was deep breaths and scent.

_ “Hear… Sticks… bang. Fight. Play-fight…” _

_ “Whole sentences, Ashivon. You are safe. Hear three more.” _

_ “Hear… birds. Hear the wind. Hear Ashivon heart.” _

_ “Ahnmivah can hear your heart too. You do good. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Smell three.” _

The incoming breath was deep and slow. Good. The outgoing breath was shuddering and close to tears. Not so good.  _ “Smell… cut grass. I smell… Ahnmivah sweat…” _ a laugh that was dangerously close to hysteria.  _ “Smell… flowers. I can smell the spring fading in the air.” _

Oh, that was a gloriously good sign. Ashivon had the soul of a poet. He had an amazing turn of phrase when he was having a good day. “Can you speak Intsehli, yet?”

_ “No…” _

_ “It is good. Take a slow pace. Good Ashivon. Safe Ashivon.”  _ Small gods help him, he was running out of Nital.  _ “Feel two?” _

_ “I feel, sunshine like a warm embrace. I feel, hard stone like the cruelties of my past.” _

Mixed results? Good bad good bad good? Ahnmivah smiled anyway and offered him a gourd from Ashivon’s side.  _ “Taste one?” _

A small sip, and a grimace. “Ink water! Pleh!”

Ahnmivah took it off him and tried the  _ other _ gourd by his side. “Maybe this one?”

Another small sip. “Watered wine. Better. Thank you.” Ashivon’s eyes were still moist and his hands still shook.

“Do you need Sanga? Do you need…” he went for it. “Do you need to be held?”

Ashivon, still trembling, put his work neatly to one side and opened his arms. “You can hold me.”

_ Not mine, never mine. I am being a good friend. I am seeing to a need and nothing more. _ He could tell himself that until the stars grew cold, but was the hammering of his heart from the exercise or from the simple joy of holding someone he held dear?

_ Not mine, never mine, not mine never mine, but oh small gods, he smells so nice… _

Ashivon was weeping softly. Ahnmivah felt prone to joining him.

* * *

He  _ wanted _ to say that it was the last time they did that, but… the next practice, after Sanga deemed him too exhausted to do much more, he wobbled over to Ashivon and plopped into the grass, taking deep, gasping breaths, if only to enjoy the air. He was curled up over his knees, but a shaky hand nervously pushed the middle of his back, trying to straighten it. Ahnmivah peeked an eye open to see Ashivon looked at him in concern. “I’m fine, Tochva, just… just trying to get my air back.”

“Sit back, you’re not getting air the right way,” Ashivon said gently. He moved his free hand to Ahnmivah’s face, but hesitated. Ahnmivah smiled and nodded. Ashivon relaxed slightly and moved his chin up a little bit. “Deep breaths,” He said.

Ahnmivah smiled and humored him and took a deep, slow breath as Ashivon’s hand on his back pushed him to sit up straight. It was awkward, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t help. It was mildly cancelled out by the constant, clashing thoughts. _Not mine __small gods, he’s touching me__ Never mine __he’s so strong._ He managed in the end and sigh happily when he felt that he had his breathing back to normal.

Ashivon returned it, but his gaze was drawn to the earring in the closest ear. He blinked and reached for it, but again hesitated. “You can touch it, Ashivon,” Ahnmivah encouraged. “It’s the one Sanga found on the beach. I figured she wouldn’t complain about a stud, right? She is friends with you, after all.” Ashivon hummed, clearly not understanding the word, but he gently fiddled with the earring. Ahnmivah’s eyes drifted shut at the gentle touch and he didn’t even notice the soft purrs that began to rumble in his chest. 

Smiling, Ashivon quietly marvelled over how soft this man’s fur was, accidentally brushing his hair on occasion. When Ahnmivah began to lean, he thought nothing of it except permission and he dragged his hand through his friend’s hair gently. Instantly, great purrs erupted from Ahnmivah’s chest and the man blinked wearily. Ashivon’s hand retracted out of fear.

Ahnmivah took a deep breath and stretched, “You didn’t have to stop, but be warned, I apparently try to fall asleep on people when they play with my hair.” 

A sharp crack echoed around the small clearing and Ashivon’s head snapped over in alarm. It was Sanga and Tselah playing with their staves and he had tried a swing too hard. Sanga was grinning as they continued their small fight. 

“Hey, don’t pay attention to them, Tochva. C’mon,” Ahnmivah said gently. He leaned back and opened his arms. Ashivon took a shaky breath and curled into his friend’s side, hiding in his mass. Ahnmivah hummed, “You can play with my hair, I’ve heard it’s relaxing too.” The jest, though more of a hidden suggestion, was heard and Ashivon slowly began to comb his fingers through his hair and Ahnmivah’s eyes drifted shut. He moved slowly, curling an arm over Ashivon’s waist and bowing his head lower. This allowed him to wrap the man in a bundle of loud purrs and vibration that helped drown out the fighting a stone’s throw away. They never noticed each other falling asleep.

It began to start some serious thoughts, but they also had bigger problems to worry about. Ahnmivah had to help Sanga for the masked festival if she wanted to be a fighter. He showed her and Ashivon some books from the library, hoping to learn the choreography before the festival next month. It opened up a new regiment, where Ashivon would read the instructions from the book, Ahnmivah would listen and perform it, and Sanga would replicate it. 

It was interesting to see learning from the other side of things. Sanga was as much a quick study when it came to physical activities as the same for Ashivon and learning. She had trouble remembering the order, but she put so much  _ heart _ into everything she did that it was almost jarring to see her perform her first run. Ahnmivah and Ashivon couldn’t stop staring as she did her routine. Then came her personal move.

The book said each was personal to each fighter and that there could be no instructions. One fighter would go first as the other watched and then the other did theirs. It was a moment of inspiration and were supposed to tell a story. Sometimes, they were used as a dedication to a teacher, or a friend or a loved one.

It almost threw Ashivon into the ground to see her swipe with her hands, gnash her teeth and perform leaps that were… way too familiar. Tears welled up in his eyes as he watched it. She then took on a few basic forms, leaning far too forward, but she evolved them into a roll. Ahnmivah’s back straightened and his knees shook. 

She then continued on through the run and she was grinning when she was done. She turned to the others and walked over, “So?”

“Y-You-” Ashivon shook. Sanga’s face fell, but she wasted no time when Ashivon held his arms out. She dove into his arms, wrapping him into a tight hug.

“I’ll take it out, I’ll redo it,” She swore, but he shook his head.

“You put  _ us _ in there. You should have put…” He trembled and Sanga shushed him, running her fingers through his hair.

She smiled, “Ashivon, I didn’t want to remember  _ them _ , I wanted to dedicate it to the life we have now.” She rocked him gently until his tears stopped. Neither noticed Ahnmivah whispering ‘Not mine. Never mine’ to himself. Why did he keep imagining things that weren’t there?

The next day, Sanga approached Ahnmivah and shook her head, “I… I no do fighter. Not when Ashivon…” Ahnmivah nodded in understanding and she looked up, “I talk to Ashivon and he want to join. He say he want to be healer and if he will join, then… He needs protector.”

Ahnmivah smiled, “You want to be a Guardian.” Sanga nodded seriously and he smiled. “I’ll help you go and find the flowers and the costumes.” Sanga grinned and lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him for a brief moment and ran off to go tell Ashivon the good news.


	5. Chapter 5

If there was one problem with the  _ standard _ costumes for the Masks of the festival. They were made for Intseh. Specifically, they were made for Intseh  _ adults. _ Sanga wasn’t much taller than the average Intseh tween, and much wider around than one as well. This was a problem with the pre-prepared costumes.

Ashivon didn’t exactly match the build of the typical Healer, though he had less trouble than Sanga did.

“I look like a swamp monster who rolled in a field of flowers,” Sanga complained. “This mask won’t fit.” She fiddled with it. Intseh faces were not very much larger than human ones, but the Intseh faces were a different shape entirely. She could only make one eye-hole work at a time.

“Adjustments will have to be made,” Ahnmivah announced. “We really shouldn’t destroy these to make yours, but there’s plenty of material for new Masks, so…”

It was a whirlwind of creative activity. The Guardians always needed to seat their flowers anyway, so the storehouse had more than what they could need to craft at least  _ most _ of a Guardian costume for Sanga. The rest was weaving the flowers into whatever was there.

Ahnmivah stitched the significant symbols into the robes, while Ashivon and Sanga made the robes and the mask to fit her. Ashivon seemed fascinated by the symbols. Circles in circles and special lines. “These… aren’t words… I’ve seen some like these.”

“It’s tradition. The guardian has these all over their robes. They say it keeps the flowers fresh. Nobody can really tell because others keep adding flowers to the Guardian. No Guardian is complete without them so… I stitch as fast as I can.”

Ashivon picked up needle, thread, and a part of the costume that Ahmivah wasn’t working on. “Show me?”

Sanga was working on the mask, operating off the pattern given by the masks fitted for Intseh. It was paper and wickerwork and glue, but she managed to make an Intseh-appearing mask to fit her human face. There were even false horns as part of the mask.

Ahnmivah would have to let her know that horns were not mandatory.

Ashivon’s outfit as the Healer was a lot simpler. It was also very, very bright. What alarmed him was the painted symbol that was going on his chest.

A symbol very much like the one on Sanga’s chest. The only difference was that it was reversed.

He had seen that symbol too many times to think it was his mistake. He had seen it on the servants of Divinity. He saw it every day on Carnius, on the other who was with him. On the other who escorted him between cell and arena. He saw it everywhere. It haunted him.

He was greying out at the sight of this parody of the same symbol.

“Breathe,” cooed Ahnmivah. “Talk to me… What’s the matter?”

“Sanga?  _ Sangaaaa…?” _

She put down her mask in progress to dry and came over to peer at the manual where a full-body illustration of the Healer was.

“Holy shit,” she said. “How is that even possible. None of you have even seen  _ Divinity.” _

Wait. That was a Nital word. “The bad place?” Ahnmivah guessed.

Ashivon could only nod. Sanga was adjusting her top to show a part of her chest that she usually concealed. The tattoo that had once meant so much to her, and meant too much to him to this day. Ashivon deliberately looked away.

“That’s backwards,” said Ahnmivah. “No lie, it’s in a magnificent place, but why… Why a  _ black _ tattoo? It’s supposed to be yellow.”

“It glowed when it was intact,” said Ashivon. “Sanga could use it to heal me when I was hurt.”

“It’s broken now.” Rustling indicated that she was covering back up. When she touched him on the arm, she was completely covered up once more. Just Sanga, and not bearing any signs of the threatening followers of Divinity. He reached out to touch her arm back, to let her know he was okay.

Poor Ahnmivah watched them with such yearning in his eyes. Ashivon was starting to wonder if he, she, and their new friend could perhaps become something of a family. Except… Ahnmivah was punished with their company. Maybe he was yearning to get away.

They really should think about finding a home. Ashivrahari was dropping subtle hints that two more grown-ass adults didn’t fit very comfortably in their little home. They were grateful for Tselah’s rescue, that was true, but… tensions were starting to rise.

His imaginings of a new home were starting to include Ahnmivah. He didn’t know how to tell Sanga that much. She had been in enough of a panic about him just reaching other Intseh. When he didn’t know what to say, he tended to say nothing.

“These symbols,” said Sanga. “Do they have meaning?”

“They’re not writing,” Ahnmivah allowed. “They’re just… symbols. For the festival. This one is healer, this one is lover, this one is commander…” he doodled them in some dust.

The symbol for commander almost stopped Ashivon’s heart.

It was a symbol Ashivon knew far too well. He saw that one every day, too. The only difference was that, on the Intseh dancers, it was skewed to one side.

The one Ashivon saw was on Carnius’ right palm. The one he used to make Ashivon do whatever Carnius willed.

It was the control symbol.

* * *

Ahnmivah knew that he needed to do something, not if the harmless symbol he had drawn into the ground rendered him shaking and on the verge of tears for the rest of the day. Sanga looked nervous, but she swore up and down that she wouldn’t let anyone  _ near _ him that wore that symbol, and Ahnmivah decided that he could… maybe have a word with some of his friends. 

Friends might have been a stretch, but he knew better and brought Tselah with him. His parents were concerned when he showed up after dark and asked for his help with something, but Ahnmivah explained his plan. Ashivrahari was more willing and called Tselah from within the depths of the home and the kit came bounding. Charlah pulled him aside and quietly began filling him in. Tselah looked to Ahnmivah for confirmation.

“We’re going to get some people for a smaller celebration,” He said. Tselah smiled in understanding and they went out on their way. 

It was… difficult. People who had been planning to be commanders were understanding and promised to stay in the usual area. People who weren’t agreed to stop by and but they wouldn’t be able to stay the whole night. Then they accidentally knocked on… the head councilman’s door.

The severe man opened it and scowled at Ahnmivah, but it worsened when he saw Tselah. “You had better not be dragging more people into your schemes, Ahnmivah,” He huffed.

“No, no no no, I’m not,” Ahnmivah swore. He swallowed and looked the man in the eyes, “Sanga and Ashivon, they want to participate in the masked festival, but…”

Tselah leaned on Ahnmivah, “They’re  _ traumatized _ , er, broken. Ashivon came home sobbing and Sanga had to practically lead him in and it turns out he can’t see the commander symbol or he-“ 

The headcouncilman frowned, “I get the picture, little one.” He looked at Ahnmivah, “I will not be cancelling the masked festival this year, and I will not be telling any potential Commanders to not dress in their costumes. It goes against the tradition of things. So what are you suggesting?”

Ahnmivah swallowed and he clasped his shaking hands together, “I’ve been asking people if they’d like to make a smaller celebration outside town, where we’ll be. No commanders, plenty of space, and I’m going to do the cooking-“

“You’re staying with your assignment, correct?” He asked. 

Ahnmivah laughed weakly, “I’m out here after dark, right? I don’t know what I’m going to do when I need to cook, but I’ll manage.” He looked at the official with nervous eyes, “Please don’t break it up. I want to show them our ways, and I’m scared about what might happen if they go to the one in the center of town.”

The official huffed, “I can't tell if that was a hit to my pride of our ways, or if you really mean it, but I’ll allow it. Where will you be holding it?”

“J-Just outside of town, on the beach overlook,” He said. His stomach was filled with butterflies and relief as his knees shook. If the official was alright with it, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad?

The man nodded, “Noted. I’ll see if we can spare any food or decorations. If you’re going to do this, you’re going to do this properly.” He paused and looked at Tselah. “I’d like a word with you?” He looked at Ahnmivah, “Alone?” The adult stiffened and gave them some space, but still kept Tselah in view. 

The councilman knelt and he cocked his head curiously. Tselah giggled and nodded, looking back at Ahnmivah and back to where his own house was. The man’s eyes drifted over to Ahnmivah and nodded before standing and waving the child away. Tselah perked up and ran back to Ahnmivah. “He said he’d make an announcement about it at the start of the festival! We can go home!” His sentence was punctuated by a yawn and he rubbed an eye.

Ahnmivah nodded and held out his hand, “That’s good. Do you want me to carry you back?” Tselah weighed his options and nodded. Ahnmivah smiled and picked him up gently and the boy cuddled into his shoulder. Purring quietly, Ahnmivah began to walk home. He eventually noticed that Tselah had fallen asleep. “Thank you for your help today,” He whispered. 

He knocked on the parents door quietly, and when it was opened, Charlah opened their mouth to welcome them back, but Ahnmivah held up a finger. He showed the sleeping kit. Charlah chuckled quietly and let them in. “Third door on the left,” They whispered. “Be careful about their toys.” The larger man laughed quietly and quickly found Tselah’s room. Indeed, it was messy, with the covers scattered at the foot of the bed, his toys strewn across the floor, and Ahnmivah noticed the dozens of trinkets that lay on his bookshelf. He smiled, glad to know the receiver of Sanga and Ashivon’s third pile of treasures.

He lay Tselah in the bed gently and carefully tucked him in. Tselah squirmed slightly, getting comfortable, but he never woke. Ahnmivah ran the backs of his nails over his forehead and walked out. He froze to see Sanga and Ashivon in the room across the hall, sitting on one of their beds. They were staring at him, but Sanga waved. Ahnmivah waved back, but nodded his departure.

Leaving, he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight, so he gathered his usual beach tools and went outside, hoping that he’d be able to finish soon. He got up from the beach and took a seat at the base of a tree rooted where the sands met the grass. It was at that moment that his exhaustion caught up with him and he fell asleep. He’d continue to sleep, even after Sanga and Ashivon found him.


	6. Chapter 6

“Aaaw,” said Sanga.

“I suspected,” said Ashivon. “A lot of the jewelry we found fit him… a little too well. But there was other stuff…” he trailed off. Picked up a ring from his bucket of gewgaws. “You found this one last month.”

Sanga looked. “Oh yeah… Maybe he wanted one of us to have it? Maybe…” her face fell. “Maybe he was just keeping us busy. Back  _ there… _ when I was little… they’d send me with pieces of paper all the way across the city-complex. I was seven when I opened them to read and… they were blank.”

Ashivon said, “He was tasked with keeping us out of trouble…”

“Should we say something?”

Ashivon was crouched down, staring at the nothing between the slumbering Ahnmivah and the bucketful of shiny things. He didn’t know what to say.

Sanga patted his shoulder. “I’m going to see what I can find without him planting any treats. Signal if he wakes up or if you think of something.” She blessed his temple with a quick peck and went looking through the tide pools. She had her own way of thinking about things. Roaming around the tide pools and looking for anything interesting let her body do something while her mind whirled around in its own acrobatics. Attacking a problem from several angles at once.

Pretty shell, beach glass, bit of silver… Ahnmivah didn’t seem to treat their company like any kind of punishment. He didn’t give any sign of irritation at them or any indication that he would much rather be anywhere else than where they were. Sanga had had too much experience with those kinds of looks. He was going out of his way to keep them occupied and out of trouble… but not in the blank paper way that her teachers once had. He was trying to make them happy.

Sanga had not had a lot of experience with  _ that. _ It was new to her. Only Ashivon had made the effort previously and, when he warmed to the two of them, Tselah made some attempts. Most of the ‘proper’ Intseh either treated them with curiosity or caution. Which was acceptable since both her and Ashivon were essentially foreigners.

She found something sparkly, and it was a random piece of jewelry. A bracelet with sparkling glass gems, but it looked like hammered brass. After picking it up, she checked on Ashivon, who was poking at some grass with another piece of grass. Thinking, not vagueing out. He was okay.

Glass, shell, shell, bead… a whole bunch of beads. Sanga hunkered in the pool and sifted beads out of the sand like she’d taught Ashivon.

He was willing to make certain they would be having fun in the tide pools. He was taking care to make sure they were going to enjoy the festival. A set of preparations that did not stop at helping them make costumes. He was working on  _ something, _ Sanga could sense it, and it all had to do with Ashivon’s gibbering panic at the sight of a Commander symbol.

He didn’t have to do any of that.

And she liked sparring with him and teaching him and she liked the way he pried Ashivon out of his shell, sometimes, or how he could tone down her lightning-ball tendency for inspired chaos. Or how he worked so hard at finding things they could enjoy.

He could have fulfilled his sentence with a set of instructions and a map.

Sanga made her way back to where Ahnmivah was napping and sat beside Ashivon. She offered her hand and he took it.

“I don’t think it’s bad,” she said. “He likes to have fun, and he’s making sure  _ we _ have fun, too.”

Haltingly, Ashivon found some words. “He… seemed… worried. Afraid… for us? Afraid… for me?”

“He is…” Sanga flailed for the right word. “Like the time Charlah and Ashivrahari found out I was still teaching Tselah how to knap flint knives. Uh. Worried for all.”

“Concerned. Yes.” Ashivon nodded. “He is concerned.” After another deep pause, he added, “I like his hugs.”

Sanga grinned. “He gives  _ great _ hugs.” She started weaving a cord out of grass stems. Ashivon stuck with her because he didn’t know anyone else, but… now he was getting to know people. He was finding a place to belong. There might even be a time when he didn’t need her any more. She could try to fit in and find a place where she belonged, but she was still a human on islands populated entirely by Intseh. She’d always be on the outside, no matter  _ how _ devastating she was at kickball or how many kits she trained or…

Eh. Nothing new. She was used to being unwanted anyway. Enjoy what she had while she had it and cry about the bad stuff when or even if it happened.

Her hands had strung up shells on the grass cord and she grinned. “Think he’d never stop wearing this one as well?”

“Maybe turn it into a wind chime,” said Ashivon. “He rattles enough.”

“...mrblwhzz’t?” said Ahnmivah, finally opening his eyes. “Oh shit,” he said. “This might not be what you think?”

“Depends,” said Sanga. “What do you think we think this is?”

Ahnmivah took a breath in that was long and loaded with worry. “Ididn’twantyoutobesadiftherewasnothinginthetidepools, soIjustmadesurethere’dbeafewthingsforyoutofind, IhadplentytosharesoIjustmadesure, that’sall. Ididn’twannamakeyouthinkIwasplayingyouforfools!”

“Uuuuhh…” said Sanga, who hadn’t caught one word in three.

Ashivon provided a translation. “He didn’t want us to be sad if there was nothing in the pools, so he made sure there would be something. He has a lot to share, and all he meant was to make sure there’d be something to find. He didn’t want us to feel like idiots.”

Ahnmivah curled up on himself a little. “...please don’t be mad at me?”

“You wanted us to have fun,” said Sanga.

“Yeah?”

“You still want us to have fun,” said Ashivon.

Ahnmivah uncurled a little. “I do enjoy showing people a good time.” Just like that, he was back to his invitingly confident body language. “Smiles are always worth my while.”

How could she not admire that charm? How could she not resist when it was aimed at her? She was  _ not _ used to people of any kind being attracted to her. Or even acting like they were attracted to her.

Something she’d heard Ahnmivah mumble echoed around her head.  _ Not mine, never mine. _

Ahnmivah was a sparrow. He was not the sort to settle down. He’d have his fun and likely move on to bigger fun.

Sanga didn’t know, and couldn’t imagine, what that would be like. She had spent her whole life thinking she would spend a significant portion of that life with one person. That kind of thinking was hard to shake.

Nevertheless, her daydreams of paradise always included a house with a garden, and Ashivon, and maybe some cats. It was only recently that Ahnmivah started turning up in those.

No. Intseh belonged with Intseh. She could have a quiet cottage with a garden and Ashivon would be happy with his people and she could have a dozen cats. Ashivon and Ahnmivah would be happy together and visit for pie.

She was, after all, used to not having what she wanted.

Sanga would cry about it when it happened all the same. “You don’t have to try so hard,” she cooed. “We have fun with you anyway.”

* * *

When the day of a festival arrived, so did a letter. He opened it quickly and he froze. The council had made a snap decision last night to alleviate his assignment for one day and one day  _ only _ . “In order to arrange the Masked Festival as you deem necessary. We have sent notice to Sanga and Ashivon to assure them you are not ignoring them. Should you fail to imitate the festival to a standard degree, you can be certain that it will no longer be you to use the decorations. You can pick them up the city hall when you are able and the food will be delivered as the sun is three-fourths across the sky. Signed, The Council.” After that was a long string of signatures and he put the paper down in shock.

He grinned and went to get dressed as soon as possible, nearly tripping over himself. Her threw his necklace on over his outfit and stormed to city hall. 

He had to admit, when Sanga and Ashivon trained so early in the morning for so long, and he’d do to admire them, it was to no one’s surprise that he began to wake up early on his own and he was thankful. Already, Intseh we’re decorating the town and several saw him and grinned. He waved back in confusion. Some of these people hadn’t been entirely kind to him in the past, so why…? He shook his head as he got to his destination. He had bigger things to worry about.

Entering the building, Ahnmivah froze to see three others standing in front of boxes. The tallest grinned, “There he is! We were taking bets on whether or not you’d have slept in!” He laughed, but a tall woman next to him flicked his ear. 

“Not funny,” She hissed. 

The shortest man sighed and heaved up his box, “Let’s get going.”

Ahnmivah nodded and went for the largest box, “Alright, do you know where we’re going?”

“Beach overlook. We’re sending this jerk,” The woman said, looking to her taller companion, “back for supports. We’re not leaving until this is done.”

Ahnmivah almost tripped, “You’re going to help me?”

The large man laughed, “Of course! This isn’t just a reflection on you, but the whole city! And besides, it might be fun to get away from some of those Commander jerks every once in a while!” The others nodded in agreement and Ahnmivah relaxed. 

“Either way, thank you. I don’t know how much it means to you, but it’s a lot for me,” He said. The others hummed and they continued on their way. 

They got to the overlook and Ahnmivah grinned to see two other people there, ready to help. Together, they all set to work and even before noon, everything was ready. Ahnmivah thanked them profusely, but they all shared a look and told him to keep looking out for those two. They left without any further explanation. He sighed and looked around. “Alright, banners, tables, cloth, games… Food, but it’s not ready yet… I can’t get ready…” He sighed and went to go check on Sanga and Ashivon. 

Tselah opened to door, already dressed in purple paint and he grinned, “They look great, Ahnmivah.” He peered into the house, “HEY, YOUR BOYFRIEND’S HERE!” There was a crash within the house and Tselah cackled as he let in Ahnmivah. 

“We’re-We’re not-“ Ahnmivah sputtered.  _ Not mine. Never mine. _ But his breath caught when he saw Sanga and Ashivon walk into the room. Sanga was practically dripping flowers, which a substantial collar that dipped behind her head and a flower crown that looked almost as beautiful as her. She carried a rather thin stick in her hand with several leaves that popped off the end. On the other hand, Ashivon stood tall in his doctor’s robes that accented his every muscle maybe a bit too well. He had a gourd on either hip and a few flowers tucked into his hair.

“You both… You’re stunning,” He breathed.

Sanga chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “Thanks. See, Ash? I knew we’d render him speechless someday.”

Ashivon nodded and he shifted, his tail twitching behind him, “Y-Yeah.”

“Only you two,” Ahnmivah muttered and he cleared his throat. “I, uh, I wanted to come check on you two. Are you two ok?”

Ashivon nodded, “Sanga nearly sat on her flowers.”

She gasped, “I did  _ not _ !” 

Tselah snorted, “She absolutely did.” 

“When are we going to see you and your outfit?” Sanga asked, changing the subject. 

Ahnmivah paused, “I’ll be there, but no one’s supposed to know it’s me. You two might know, but by tradition, you two  _ can’t  _ know. But I will be there keeping an eye on you.”

They deflated slightly, so he said, “My figure is pretty hard to get wrong, but if you try to give me a flower Sanga, I’ll joke to smell it and give it back.”

“Alright. Well, we’ll see you tonight?” Ashivon asked. 

“I’ll take them there,” Tselah grinned, nudging Ahnmivah slightly.

“Shush, you little rugrat,” He said, ruffling Tselah’s hair. The kit laughed and scampered behind Sanga.

“I’m with a Guardian, you can’t do anything!” He jeered. The adults rolled their eyes and all shared a look, but they realized and looked down.

“W-Well, I better get going,” Ahnmivah sputtered and quickly scampered out the door. He took a deep breath and went to finish preparations. 

When dusk finally came, Ahnmivah shuffled around the clearing nervously. He had on his usual blue robes that shimmered in the light and the veil that hid his features well. As much as he hated doing so, he had had to take off the necklace. He made one last check to make sure everything was ready. The food, the drinks, the decorations… everything was perfect… well, it wasn’t  _ perfect _ , not without them- He shook his head silently.  _ Not mine, never mine.  _

A horn resounded from the town and he straightened, letting the power of the Lover wash over him. He was graceful, smooth tongued, and confident. Let the festival begin.


	7. Chapter 7

Sanga guessed it was pretty obvious to literally everyone who they were. She was short and stout and did not move like an Intseh tween because they took their Masks way too seriously because they were rushing to become adults. Ashivon, on the other hand, was distinctive no matter  _ what _ you put him in. You could put him in the blacks of the Ghost or the blues of the Lover and instantly know -yes- that was Ashivon.

The fact that he was hand in hand with Obviously That’s Sanga didn’t help any hopes of anonymity.

Sanga decided she didn’t care. There were other Intseh who didn’t bother with masks, some of whom were dressed only in an appropriately-coloured loincloth, some paint, and a lot of ribbons. Some weren’t even dressed up at all, but generally partying. Every colour there could ever be was here, except… nobody was dressed in orange. A few wore the blacks of the Ghost but, in deference to Ashivon’s multiple hysteria attacks in the past, were overplaying at being scary.

A couple of Warriors dance-fought in perfect synchronization in a circle set out for them. Perfectly synchronized. Possibly also very deeply in love. It seemed like the Intseh shared the battle-until-kissing part of their legends with humanity, after all.

People were laughing, people were eating, people were singing, people were dancing. Some were taking their Masks more seriously than others and Ashivon was one of them.

The Healer, according to tradition, handed out wine to those who were not having enough fun, and water to those who had had too much wine. The gourds at his hip were currently full as he surveyed the crowd through the wide eye holes of his mask. Eye holes that were much wider than tradition decreed because Ashivon couldn’t stand having his vision limited in any way.

Sanga was on the lookout for trouble-makers, and had green paint to tag anyone who was being a butt. So far, everyone was behaving themselves, but the night was young.

Some Intseh, chased by others in the blue of the Lover, used Sanga as a safe base, and she readied her staff at the Lovers in question and cocked her head meaningfully.  _ You want a fight? You’ll get one. _

Fortunately, her reputation for boisterous sporting shenanigans had reached places she had not and the troublesome Lovers backed off.

There was good food, and good wine, and Sanga even managed to do some of the simpler dances with Ashivon.

_ Every time she saw someone in the Lover costume, she sized them up. Trying to match them with Ahnmivah’s shape. _ He had to be somewhere.

A tween-shaped Ghost picked up a small child with the apparent intent to carry the kit off, but a slightly larger Lover made them put the kit back down. There were five of them. Short and scrawny for Intseh. All in ill-fitting costumes from the general stores. All in full body costumes.

_ There was something about the way they walked… _

They weren’t menacing any other kits, so she tried to ignore them, but their presence gnawed at her mind. Something wasn’t right. Something… didn’t belong.

_ A papercut… a pebble in a shoe… a mosquito in the night… an untraceable burr in the clothes… _

Something small, yet annoying for its smallness.

_ Their Healer had the Divinity symbol around the same way as Sanga’s! _

She switched to battle-ready stance in an instant and hollered in Nital,  _ “Saint’s praise be with you!” _

All five of them, automatic and ingrained, answered,  _ “Saint’s love protect you!” _ And then they all realised exactly how hard they had just shit their own beds.

The one in the Ghost outfit raised his hand…

* * *

Ahnmivah couldn’t breathe. He had heard stories from Sanga and Ashivon and knew what was coming. He had heard Sanga’s call and their reply and he  _ knew _ . He had heard from Ashivon about what happened and he couldn’t let it happen. He had heard, but he couldn’t put them through that. “ _ Ashivon, run!” _ He charged forward himself.

Ahnmivah did not consider himself a brave man, and if you asked the head councilman, he was a rather stupid one.

That stupidity was more than what he needed. He lunged, leaning too far forward, and he body-slammed the human. Instantly, the human went sprawling back several feet and glowing staves erupted in the four others hands. 

Everyone else at the party was tense, hearing and seeing this event. They knew it was Ahnmivah, and for all his tomfoolery, he was  _ never _ a violent man. Ahnmivah looked at Sanga and Ashivon and threw his veil off and roared, “ _ Both of you! Get out of here! _ ” 

Sanga stared and she clenched fists and Ahnmivah understood he’d have more luck asking a mountain to move. Ashivon was shaking like a leaf and Ahnmivah pointed to town, “ _ Ashivon, get to the town! Warn the- _ ” He cried out as he was struck across his back and he felt searing burns etch themselves into his fine fur. He turned around to the ill-fated human who took a step back. 

“ _ Don’t touch him! _ ” Sanga shouted and she finally charged. Ahmivah would have laughed when he saw a small figure absolutely draped in flowers, had it not been for the fact that they were facing down the people that were responsible for hurting Ashivon or that he was wrapped in burning ropes.

Some of the Fighters understood that this was not a scripted event but a valid threat and they headed for them. Bless one united pair, married far longer than anyone cared to recall and trusted each other almost as much as Sanga and Ashivon, had brought actual weapons. They took their places next to Sanga and Ahnmivah and many others were heading back to town. 

“Cut the tattoo on his palm! Don’t let him near Ashivon!” Sanga snarled. 

One of the married grinned, “My pleasure. Devan-Intseh!”

“ **DEVAN-INTSEH!** ”

With the rallying cry, the three charged, not noticing Ashivon shaking and unable to move as one slipped past the defenders.

Carnius stood in front of Ashivon and he grinned, “ _ Monster. You were never free. _ ” He lifted his palm and Ashivon stared, but a ceramic plate broke over his back. Carnius snarled and whirled around. 

In something that seemed too similar, Tselah stood before them, confused and scared. Ashivon refused to let the pain from that night repeat itself and he roared.

The clearing went silent as time seemed to slow. 

Several other cries cut through the darkness as small dark shapes descended upon them all. They swarmed, knocking out knees and aiming for the back and the stomachs, but as they had been taught, never the head. The four staff-bearing humans crumbled under the assault and they were quickly buried under every kit that had ever attended one of Sanga’s lessons. With the whip-wielder distracted, Ahnmivah was able to wrench himself free and got a weapon to defend himself.

With them taken care of, Sanga and Ahnmivah were finally able to look to Ashivon and Tselah, both of whom were frozen. Tselah was looking at the man crumbled on the ground in fear and he fell back in fear. Ashivon was frozen and his eyes were heavily glazed over. 

“Ashivon?”


	8. Chapter 8

It had happened so fast. That was all he was certain of. He had been offering wine to someone who was looking glumly at one of the Lovers in the crowd, and then…

_ “Saint’s praise be with you!” _

That was an old phrase full of horror. Entire crowds would chant it before they opened the doors to the arena and he would have to face…  _ another poor soul trembling in fear, bearing a weapon of desperation and more than one injury… another angry embodiment of fury determined to killl him and gain untold glories… another foreign soldier, staring in confusion and armed with something that could work if only they weren’t facing down an Intseh… _

Then there came the other half of it, just as he was wondering why Sanga would even shout those words of his pain. Five voices, all holding the same fervour as the crowd in the arena.  _ “Saint’s love protect you!” _

One of the five had the Divinity symbol around the right way. Daubed over the top of the traditional Intseh one in rough paint. Red paint.

He moved into a stance, ready to strike at the first to strike at him, almost automatically. The gourd of wine dropped from his hand, whether it bounced or broke, he couldn’t remember. His eyes were on the Ghost.

He knew that walk. He knew that way of carrying his body. He knew every twitch of that man. An old hatred, older than mountain bones, steeped in fear and set with sundry agonies.

Carnius.

The definitive monster. The instigator of terror. His master, his torturer, his puppeteer…

...was raising his hand…

The air turned thicker than molasses. Ashivon could see he wasn’t even channeling the power yet, but already instinct had rooted his own feet to the ground.

His blood rushed, filling his ears and insulating them from all other sound. In seconds or less, the glow would come. His body would not be his own. He would be made to fight. Made to slaughter…

...friends, family, neighbours, loves…

Then someone smashed a plate over his old monster’s head. Distracting him. Making him turn away and forget about channeling at all. Sanga was already using her staff against an opposite lightstaff in a Divinity follower’s hands.

Anmivah, his mask off, was smouldering under the grasp of light-whips, struggling and trying to defend himself.

Two Warriors lunged in unison, perfectly co-ordinated, at two of the Divinity troops.  _ They actually had real weapons, and knew how to use them… _

Then another miracle. Children. Every kit in Devan-Intseh who had attended any kind of staff-fighting lesson had picked up rods or cut green canes or otherwise found a big stick and were defeating the forces of Divinity by sheer weight of numbers.

Sanga had told him, once, that a Master feared a novice the worst. Novices had never been taught all the tricks, yet, and especially not what they were  _ never to do. _ Therefore, they could do literally anything. Including smacking themselves somewhere tender, but they were more likely to hurt the Master by unadulterated accident.

Ahnmivah, freed from the whips, pulled a lantern pole out of the ground and swung it wildly about.

It happened so fast.

That was all he was certain of.

The fog rolled into his head. It obscured the present. It filled his head with the painful past.

_ He remembered how Sanga lost her powers. _

He could use that. Couldn’t he?

Ashivon’s vision filled with the shape of Carnius in Ghost blacks, thrown negligently over his actual clothes. That combination of red and cream brought back a million battles. Brought back uncountable terrors.

He could not bring himself to approach his own tormentor, but he could cut his own symbol. One claw. One line.  _ Just like the knife drawn across Sanga’s chest, a seeming lifetime ago… _

Something jangled every nerve in his body. Something echoed that brief agony in Carnius’ form as he shuddered under the staff blows.

He drew the symbol of the Guardian on himself. Backwards to the tradition. Called…  _ something… _

Sanga had called it the light and the song and he could understand that now. It was a song. A song of justice.

He made it flow out to Carnius. Made him feel…

_ ...the terror of a young child as he was torn away from the only home he knew… the loneliness and isolation of the cages they kept him in… the horror of the arena… the sympathy for those trembling souls who cowered before him… the fear of those determined to kill him… the nightmares, the endless nightmares… the lingering shock of a moment too close to what once was… _

Carnius was still alive. Broken and battered, but also broken in mind as well as body.

Ashivon still drifted in the fog, but he knew that this monster had lost his menace.

“Ashivon?”

“Ashivon, can you hear us?”

Kind hands guided him by the shoulders and hands. Never grasping his elbows. Kind voices filtered through the fog.

Kind voices, one using the few scraps of Nital that he knew.  _ “Ashivon, see five for me. Good Ashivon. Ashivon speak? Please speak?” _

Another voice, practiced in it from birth.  _ “Ashivon… you are safe. The bad people are going away. You are safe now.” _

_ “Drink?” _

The smell of wine. Good wine, he knew. Summer fruit fermented with care and possibly too much honey. Ahnmivah’s favourite brew.

_ “See… fog… arena. Blood. The dead.” _

Gentle hands removing the mask. Gentle hands draping his shoulders over with something warm. A soft and worried purr in one ear. Careful hands brushing his hair. Soothing his ears. Daubing at his tears.

_ “Come back to the real world, love. See five that are here and now. Look in your hand. See that?” _

It was… it was a sugar tart. One of his favourites. He daren’t eat it because his stomach wanted to reject everything he had ever tasted in his entire life.

“Tart,” he said. He looked to his left. “Sanga.” To his right. “Ahnmivah.” Down. Not cobbles or concrete. “Green grass.” Up, and out to the milling bystanders as enforcers and councilmen were inspecting the wreckage. As Sanga promised, the bad people were going away. Kits had arranged a pile of previously-stolen costumes and were taking turns standing on top and shouting like the warriors they imagined themselves to be. Including, “Tselah.”

_ “Good. Good. Good Ashivon. Hear four for us. You can do this.” _

“We believe in you,” said Ahnmivah.

The blood in his ears didn’t count. He had to hear what others heard. To be sure it was real. “Ahnmivah purr. Sanga breathing. Kits shouting.” One more. He needed one more… “The night bugs. Crickets. Sing.”

“You’re brilliant,” cooed Ahnmivah. He was stroking Ashivon’s fur, perhaps a little too fast. “You’re so clever. Can you feel three for us?”

He was coming out of it, he could feel it, and he nuzzled each of them in turn. “Sanga. Ahnmivah.” He ran a trembling hand through the grass. “Soft cool grass like the kiss of the morning tide.”

Now he could hear his friends breathing a great deal easier. The last two senses came with poetry and they knew he was going to recover.

The Councilor who came over was careful to cover his Commander sigil with the notebook he was using. Careful to keep his distance. Careful to crouch and look harmless before he asked, “Are you ready to tell us what you know of the incident?”

* * *

Ahnmivah looked between the two who were trying desperately to stay calm and looked up to the man who had little to no respect for him. “It was a sneak attack, Sir. They… they had on a bunch of different costumes. I don’t know where they got them, but-”

“They were trying to take a child, but someone shooed them off. I… I don’t know who, they were in a Lover costume,” Sanga provided shakily. Her hands combed through Ashivon’s hair, trying to keep the both of them calm.

Ahnmivah nodded, “It wasn’t me, but I did see that and thought it was just a sibling trying to get a little kit home. I… I should have noticed-”

“You couldn’t have known,” Sanga cut in. She reached and grasped his hand tightly. Ahnmivah squeezed it back, but didn’t let go. He couldn’t, not when…

The councilman sighed, “Well, there’s that. We captured them all alive, correct?” They looked over to where the two united Fighters were. They nodded and it suddenly occurred to Ahnmivah that at least one of them was on the council as well. 

The nodded and watched as some of the kits continued to dance on top of their prisoners’ captured costumes. Eventually, they got shooed off and told to return home.

The Councilman shook his head, “Ahnmivah, I thought I told you to keep your ways to yourself, not to teach them to these two.”

Ahnmivah chuckled, “They dragged me into this one, Sir.” He winced as some of his burns stretched. “Well, we might have to double check on injuries. I’m going to need to get cleaned up.”

“You got hurt?” The official asked. Ahnmivah nodded and before either knew it, Sanga was poking through the robes to see what was wrong.

“Sanga, if you wanted my clothes off so badly, you could have asked,” He teased, but Sanga gave him a dead look. He relaxed and looked between her and Ashivon. “Do you want me to walk you two back to the house?”

Ashivon sputtered weakly, “I don’t know if my knees would be able to hold me.”

Ahnmivah cracked a wry smile, “I’m  _ always _ ready to hold you, Tochva. I can carry you home.”

Ashivon looked down and Sanga chuckled, “He might appreciate it.” She looked to the official and bowed her head, “Ahnmivah has been kind to us and I thank you for having a commander-free area.”

The official grinned and Ahnmivah’s heart dropped. “You didn’t know? He arranged all of it. We’re all rather surprised. He’s never done anything like this for anyone else, so if he was this serious, maybe you two are doing him well.”

“You arranged this?” Ashivon whispered, staring at Ahnmivah.

The larger man stiffened, “T-The festival part, maybe, but  _ this _ ?” He gestured to the destruction. “That was not me,  _ believe me _ -”

He was cut off as Sanga barreled into him, wrapping him into a hug, “Thank you.”

“It meant a lot,” Ashivon murmured as he looked up. Ahnmivah relaxed and he wrapped Sanga into a deep hug.

“I’m coming for you next, Ashivon,” Ahnmivah joked and Sanga laughed into his chest. They pulled apart and Ahnmivah lived up to his word. He pulled Ashivon into a hug, trying to swallow him up and Ashivon collapsed into his arms, crying softly. 


	9. Chapter 9

There was something about Ahnmivah’s hugs that were so warm and inviting and secure… Ashivon wanted to live there. It was safe there. Before long, he pulled away and Ashivon yelped as he was heaved upward. Ahnmivah’s arms were tucked securely under his back and legs and Ashivon stared at the other man’s face in shock. Sanga burst into laughter at the pure star-struck gaze. 

_ No one _ had picked him up like that in  _ years _ . Ashivon couldn’t do anything except stare and cling to the remnants of Ahnmivah’s robes as they all walked home.

* * *

The official chuckled as he looked at one of his coworkers, “Maybe he isn’t as much of a sparrow as we thought.”

“You do know that half the town’s got a betting pool going about how long it will take them to get together, right?” They replied. They shook their head and started to head back. “C’mon, we need to get those five sorted out. Whatever Ashivon did to that one… I don’t want a repeat of that.”

“You and me both,” The councilman replied. “You and me both.”

* * *

Ow. Ow twice. So much hurt. Ow.

Ahnmivah tried to sit up, yowled at the stab of pain along every single muscle in his back, and wisely chose rolling out of bed instead.

Ouch.

Why, oh small gods  _ why _ did he think carrying Ashivon’s sculpted muscle in his arms was such a good idea?

Sure, it looked adorable. Sure, it felt nice.  _ Sure, _ the spirit of the Lover might have overtaken his brain cells, common sense, or logic and reason for the interim and made him think it was cool. Now he was paying the price.

He used a wall to at least achieve verticality and - in extreme pain - wrestled himself into a loincloth and kirtle. No shirt. Definitely not pants. The loincloth was enough to convince him that raising his knees independently was a very, very bad idea. Raising his arms was  _ right _ out.

He needed help.

Medical help.

_ Intense _ medical help.

On the morning after the night of the festival. When there would be hundreds of hung-over, bruised, and party-weary Intseh crowding the hospices and healer’s homes. The morning when there would be  _ queues _ of the walking wounded, so to speak, awaiting gentle and often sarcastic attention.

After a minute of wondering if he could drink his way into relaxing his knotted muscles, Ahnmivah remembered that Sanga had had some training in medical care. Potions, salves, massage… Ashivon had had an entire  _ poem _ about Sanga’s massages. Ahnmivah had read it.

Surely all those phrases about beating back the demons of pain with palms that could break rocks was artistic license…

Ahnmivah was willing to chance it since Ashivon had apparently loved the experience. Grabbing the stick he had fought with the night before (gods, had he really pulled up a lantern pole to fight with?) as a walking aid, he managed to drag himself to the house where Tselah grew.

Charlah answered the door, wearing smoked glass over his eyes and nursing what smelled like his fifth cup of calming tea. “Oh,” he said. “It’s you. I thought you had company, what with all the moaning going on.”

“...not that lucky,” he managed. “Need a massage ‘cause I carried Ashivon…”

“You?”  _ You blithe and soft sparrow of a man? _ “Carried Ashivon?”

“...I thought it was romantic…” Ahnmivah croaked. “...or at least… sweet…”

“Ashivon could make two of me,” said Charlah. “Horns and all.  _ Why _ did you try to carry him?”

Ahnmivah whimpered and clutched his stick tighter. “Please… Where’s Sanga?”

Sip. Charlah winced against the sunlight. “She said something about demonstrating for the healers and medics on the downhill side of town?”

Downhill good. He could manage downhill. “Don’t suppose you’d like to help a soft fool get there?”

“I’m not ready to face the sunshine. Sorry.”

Okay. Okay. He could do this. He was not suffering from too much wine. He was, however, suffering from too many romantic ideas and not enough exercise to make them a more common reality. Ahnmivah mentally pictured all the paths of the city and figured out which one would get him to the Medic’s Enclave with the least amount of stairs or going up even the slightest incline.

Right. Got it.

He started to drag himself there. Step by painful step.

It took him quite the while and when he got there, instead of the queue of walking wounded, there was a cluster of curious Intseh around the demonstration theatre. Where a very familiar voice was making noises Ahnmivah had only dreamed of hearing in person.

They wouldn’t be… not out in the  _ theatre… _ Not with  _ that _ many curious onlookers. Sanga was not an exhibitionist and she’d certainly have a lot more to say about the clusters of kits looking on from overhead tree branches. She got squirmingly bashful whenever Ashivon put his arm around her waist in public.

Therefore something else had to be going on.

“Excuse me,” he managed. “Soft fool in need of gentle care. I need some help…”

It took gently shoving at three or four gawking medics before they noticed him. Then one shot their hand up so fast they should have sprained something. “EXEMPLAR!”

What?

The shout turned into a chorus. “EXEMPLAR! EXEMPLAR! EXEMPLAR!”

What in the fresh hells had he just been volunteered for? On one hand, it got him into the bowl of the theatre quicker as the crowds parted like a legendary miracle and helpful hands pushed him onwards.

There, at the centre of the theatre, was Sanga. Tselah stood ready with a mouth trumpet in case something she said needed translating and, in just a very skimpy loincloth, the sculpted glory of Ashivon. He smelled of menthol and massage balms and looked  _ very _ pleased with himself as he swept on a loose robe.

Sanga, in just her chest wrap and shorts, put her fists on her hips and said, “You’re just in time. I need a tough case. Strip down to just your loincloth and get up here.”

The table before her was padded, with a sort of padded loop at one end. All of it sturdy.

“You can’t be shy, sparrow-man,” Sanga teased. “Come on.”

He nervously uncoupled the kirtle from his body and tried not to blush. Just about everyone had seen him this bare at least once. Especially the medics.  _ Especially _ on days like today.

Eager spectators helped him get as far as the table, and then ebbed away like a neap tide.

There was no step-stool, stair, or even a helpful ladder. He did give climbing on top an honest effort, but his knees rebelled.

Sanga tutted and toured around. “Watch carefully,” she said. “Just relax.” That was all the warning he got. Sanga had both of his wrists in one hand, and bent down to put the other arm around his thighs…

Then the world spun and rose and he watched in stunned amazement as the very compact Sanga hauled him around like a sack of grain, culminating in a gentle deposit onto the table.

Applause from all the spectators.

“Lie on your front,” Sanga instructed. “I fix your back.”

How? Just…  _ HOW? _ “I can make four of you,” he squeaked. “You should be suffering.  _ How _ did you just--”

“Leverage,” said Sanga. “Lie on your front.”

Very careful not to cause any further twinges, Ahnmivah obeyed.

Menthol and massage balm assaulted his nose, and the hole was for his face, he could figure that out… and then some very firm and callused hands began to work oils into his fur. He could do with a different scent, but the sensation was nice. Sanga propped his arms up on other rests.

“Tense muscle, cold muscle, very bad,” Sanga lectured. “Warm first, calm next.”

That was where the sunshine in the theatre helped. Ahnmivah could almost fall asleep to this…

Which was the exact moment that she started adding pressure.

“Next step. Untangle!”

“HHNNNNGH!” Ahnmivah’s eyes startled open as Sanga’s work forced air out of his lungs. There was no chance to fall asleep now. There was barely a chance to breathe.

He could hear the joints of his spine popping as she worked. Snap. Pop. Crick. CRUNCH.

“Ooof!”

Sanga paused, leaned down and said, “You say if I hurt you, yes?”

“...yup,” he croaked. “I’m fine…”  _ I think… _

She kneaded at his flesh like she was making bread. At the start, it was more than a little uncomfortable, but then…

Oh sweet small gods,  _ then… _

He had never had a massage like it. Every pain was, just like the poem said, beaten out of him with palms that could sunder stones. And it felt so gloriously deliriously  _ good. _ He couldn’t help himself. The utter relief combined with the seeming magic she was working on his body. It was the greatest delight he had experienced with clothing  _ on. _

He hadn’t even known it was possible to get knots in his tail muscles until Sanga wrestled them out of him.

Every inch of him was put through that sweet torture, exept the inches under the loincloth. He was actually slightly terrified that that could be an option, and more than grateful that it wasn’t. Well. Mostly grateful.

From peets to horns, she pummelled every muscle he had into limp, tingling, satisfied submission. When she was done, she patted his sternum. “You can get up now.”

He made a whining noise. “Do I have to?”

He reeked of menthol and other healing herbs but, and this was the important part, he could actually move without pain. What he wanted to do most was collapse into a very happy puddle. He was mildly shocked that he still had a skeleton to support himself as he gingerly eased his way off the table.

No  _ wonder _ Ashivon looked so damned pleased whenever he saw her. If that was just a sample…

_ Not mine, never mine, _ he reminded himself, sliding into a robe care of the medics and gathering his kirtle.  _ But if I could have one wish… _ He let the medics escort him to a warm patch where some junior trainees checked himself and Ashivon -unsurprisingly still blissed out from the massage- for any and all signs of wellness or lack thereof.

Ahnmivah didn’t even mind that Sanga was seeing to another tangled patient in front of the eager spectators and one nervous student who was now in the process of learning by doing. He couldn’t be jealous. He couldn’t feel anything at all but delight.

_ They could cut him open right there and then, and he wouldn’t even get irritated… _ He was just  _ too _ pleased from his treatment to care.

Ashivon did not open his eyes, but did say, “Thank you.”

Ahnmivah was way too relaxed to jump out of his skin at that. He did blurt, “Hubbawha?”

“I know I am the cause of your aches. So. Thank you. For everything you did last night.”

_ You can thank me with a private massage session - no! Not mine, never mine… _ “I’d do it a thousand times if it meant touching that beautiful body of yours, Tochva.”

“Ah,” said Ashivon. “Oh.” He took a deep breath in and sighed it all out. “Thank you all the same.”

Ahnmivah blinked at the clouds and at least one gawking kit dangling in a tree overhead. Wondering what the hell he’d said or done wrong.


	10. Chapter 10

It was barely a week later that the court date to confirm whether Ahnmivah would still be forced into assignment and charge of Sanga and Ashivon. There hadn’t been much morning exercising that day, so Sanga’s fingers twiddled and her leg bounced more than usual as she sat beside Ashivon. Ahnmivah sat on Ashivon’s other side, holding his hand tightly.

“On the subject of guardianship of Ashivon and Sanga by Ahnmivah, court is assembled,” Their case was called. Ahnmivah squeezed Ashivon’s hand before he rose.

The man walked to the front of the court and bowed quickly. “I stand before you to accept your decision,” Ahnmivah recited.

The head councilman hummed, “It was barely three months ago you were causing chaos, Ahnmivah. I’ve gotten reports you’re not harassing anyone around town, not outside usual chatter and pleasantries, and I believe I speak for fellow council members when I say it is a rather pleasant surprise. What was it that changed your behavior? The fact that you were busy or was it the company you kept?”

Ahnmivah grinned as he stood tall and proud, “I had people who saw the best in me and I wanted them to be happy. That’s all.” 

“Really?” Someone further down the curved table asked.

Ahnmivah looked at them, “Other than the disaster that the night ended on, the Masked Festival was an amazing night. I got to see them be happy and enjoying themselves…” His eyes fell as he remembered Sanga and Ashivon scouting each Lover to see which was him. They never tried to reach out, but… maybe everyone else’s robes were too concealing. He couldn’t break the feeling that-

His breath caught in his throat as he realized  _ why _ he was so fine with them just being happy. It was every moment that they smiled at him, that they held his hand, that they accepted him so easily and cared for him. It was a feeling he had felt but for fleeting moments with others, but it was what pushed him to keep looking for the right person.

He never realized he’d fall in love with  _ two _ people, and never this hard-

“...ivah. Ahnmivah! AHNMIVAH!” 

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized the head councilman had been calling his name, “Y-Yes, sir?”

“Good, so you haven’t fallen deaf in the middle of our session. Are you in fair health?” The official asked.

“A-As much as I can be for the moment,” He stated shakily. Some of the council members laughed and he took a deep breath. “I stand before you to state that I have done all I can to teach Sanga and Ashivon without crossing guardianship boundaries-” This caused several court members to hiss a gasp of surprise. “-And thus I can say that I will leave my sentencing into your judgement.” He bowed again and waited. He knew that it wouldn’t take much for Sanga or Ashivon to understand what he had meant. 

It wasn’t allowed for those teaching others to hold relationships. It always held far too much chance of foreigners to slip into seats of power should their  _ babysitter _ fall in love. It had far too many consequences in the past and now? He was starting to edge into unseemly territory.

The head councilman leaned back in his chair, “I... understand. You are dismissed. Calling Sanga and Ashivon forward!” Ahnmivah rose, but his figure was still stooped. He had just admitted that he liked them, but if they didn’t know… He had just given them up, at least in their eyes.

* * *

Sanga and Ashivon walked forward and they both were tense. The bowed and recited, “We stand before the council to accept your decision.”

The council laughed. The head of it smiled, “You learned well.”

Sanga stood tall as she stared at the official harshly, “Ahnmivah has taught us well, but he’s not crossing any boundaries, not that we’re aware of-”

“And it is this that he means,” He responded. “I will not bore you with matters of the court-” Ahnmivah sighed in relief as his secret was kept. “-But what stands is that he has taught you, and perhaps he has taught you enough. You have been able to join in our celebrations and enjoy them in ways we do. You participate in society as we do. The council will need to convene, but as an individual, I see no reason in keeping you two under the guardianship of Ahnmivah. You have learned all you can learn from him at the moment. I do wish to remind you that you both are not barred from seeing him. You are welcome to associate with him.”

They both relaxed and Ashivon lifted his head, “Tell me, Councilman, what were these rules of Guardianship? Ahnmivah never taught us the ways of the court.”

“Ahnmivah never taught us the ways of your laws beyond common sense,” Sanga stated. 

“Those were not matters Ahnmivah is well versed in and common sense dictates enough of our rules that you need not worry. We will discuss our options here and reconvene when he have reached a decision-” He said, but someone on the far end of the table knocked on the table.

“I declare this a matter of public rights. On the agreement to disband the assignment of Ashivon and Sanga to Ahnmivah, knock,” The furthest member declared. Sanga and Ashivon watched in horror as all but two of the numerous council knocked on the table.

One of those who did not knock rose, “Ahnmivah has been nothing but a menace to our society-”

“Sit  _ down _ ,” Someone called and quickly, the room was bounding with raised voices. Ashivon tensed and he looked around in shock, but someone pounded their gavel.

The Head councilman stood, “We are in the matter of majority and we all understand this rule. Should we wish to contest it  _ again _ , we will disband the assignment. Sanga, Ashivon, you are no longer under the guardianship of Ahnmivah. You all are free to do as you please. Next!” 

The two still standing in the middle of the court reeled in shock. They… Ahnmivah wasn’t going to…? Ashivon gripped Sanga’s hand tightly and she spurred herself back into the moment. She led him out to the doors, passing Ahnmivah. He refused to meet their eyes. Sanga marched them all the way home, where they promptly collapsed onto one of their beds and sobbed.


	11. Chapter 11

Sanga lay awake inside Ashivon’s arms as the night wore on. Thinking too hard to sleep. She had always had to work harder than most to read people, and Ahnmivah had been acting ashamed. Which direction that shame went was what bothered her.

Was he ashamed of himself? If he was, then why? Was he ashamed because he had always wanted to be free? Had he come close to a dishonour? There was that business about teachers not getting involved with students.

He had been flirting with them, but… he flirted with  _ everyone… _ Had he taken some advantage that she or Ashivon couldn’t understand?

Or… was the only reason he’d been entertaining was the fact that they were his sentence. His penalty. His… suffering?

Did he not want to see them any more?

Worse… was he ashamed of them? Were they embarrassing? Were they cramping his preferred style?

The Council  _ had _ said that Ahnmivah had been less of a nuisance…

What did it mean? What did it  _ mean? _

She’d find out in the morning, she supposed. If he turned up to practice staves or if he stayed in bed to turn soft all over again.

Sanga surprised herself with tears in her eyes at that thought. She’d liked spending time with him. Even the whole salting of the tide pools had been cute.

Had he been having her run blank pieces of paper the entire time?

Did he really… not actually like her?

The sudden hurt in her heart at that conclusion made her wake up to what had been slowly unfolding since they met him.

Oh.

Oh shit.

Saint’s piss, she was a fool. Not waking up to it sooner.

She could have gone to the Council and saved him from… from her.

_ Stupid useless lump of a girl, nobody’d want you anyway. Even your own mother didn’t want you. Ugly little thing. Not even magic any more. No use to anyone… _

Ashivon still held her in his sleep, but it was only a matter of time before he realised that she was just… in his way.

* * *

Ashivon grumbled as he was woken up with the sound of rhythmic shouting. He managed to pry an eye open and… it was too dark outside, well, no, it was just really early. He looked at Sanga tucked into the crook of his arm and he smiled. It wavered when he saw the tear marks still staining her face and he knew he was wearing his own.

He sighed and thought about what Ahnmivah had said. Were there some kind of rules about his punishment that they didn’t know? Was there a boundary line they weren’t supposed to cross? Was there-

“Ashivon?” Sanga whined as she woke up. She squinted at him and then the window and back at him before her eyes widened, “Is that-“

He nodded, “I think so?” He smiled, “Should he keep him waiting?”

Sanga pouted and rested her heel on his chest, making him purr. “Let’s go. I have some questions and by the Saint’s foot, if I don’t get any…” She got up and offered a hand. They were still dressed in yesterday’s clothes but they didn’t want to miss him.

They found him practicing the four stances over and over where they always did. He may have been trespassing into Tselah’s yard, but… 

They found Ashivrahari on the porch, staring at the man. He had a glass of tea as he watched Ahnmivah perform exercise after exercise. Ashivon was staring too as he walked over, “How long-“

“At least an hour. Woke me up a little while ago. Didn’t say anything, but… I think he wants to talk to you-“

“AHNMIVAH!” Sanga shouted as she grabbed her staff that was leaning on the side of the house. Ahnmivah looked over in surprise and joy crossed over his face for a moment before he took a step back. Ashivon understood. Sanga was terrifying when she was angry.

“Take a seat with me,” Ashivrahari said, gesturing to the rocking chair next to him. They watched as Sanga swung her staff and Ahnmivah was just barely able to block it. She was shouting, but neither quite cared at the moment. “What happened yesterday?”

Ashivon looked down and brought his knees up to his chest. “I… I don’t know. We were standing in the court room and he said there was nothing more he could teach us. He froze at some point but after that, he said he couldn’t teach us, not without breaking some guardianship rule-“

Their host burst into laughter, “That fool. Must have had a damned epiphany on the courtroom floor.” Ashivon looked at him in confusion. The other point pointed to Ahnmivah. “Go over to him and give him a hug. Not some small one either. One of those ones you’ve written poetry about and wait.”

Ashivon cocked his head but he nodded and went off to get between them. He was a little nervous about it, trying to get between them, but Ahninvah’s eyes widened as he saw Ashivon. He threw his staff down and Sanga hesitated, but she saw why. She could only stare as Ashivon threw his arms around Ahnmivah’s middle and he clutched the man tightly.

Ahnmivah froze and without a second’s hesitation, he wrapped his arms around Ashivon. He purred quietly. Nuzzling Ashivon head, he knew he was taking a liberty, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for yesterday to go like that, but-“

“But what?” Sanga choked. She clenched her fists and threw down her staff. She glared, “Are you ashamed of us or something?”

“ _ Gods, no, Sanga. Never _ .” She hesitated again at his use of Nital and especially as he opened his other arm. “I’m ashamed of myself for not realizing something sooner.”

“What was it?” Ashivon asked as he pulled his head back to stare Ahnmivah in the eyes. “Were you going to leave us?”

Ahnmivah froze and he trembled, “N-No, I don’t want to. I-If you two don’t want to see me anymore-“ He felt a third pair of arms latch onto him and saw Sanga trying to bury her face in his stomach.

“Don’t let us go,” Ashivon whimpered. Ahnmivah touched their foreheads together and both felt tiny purrs from the other. 

“ _ I am never letting you two go if you’ll allow me to _ .” Ahnmivah said. Ashivon relaxed and he looked down at Sanga. She was leaning her weight more into Ahnmivah’s side and she looked relieved. 


	12. Chapter 12

Ashivon understood. Ahnmivah wasn’t leaving them and he didn’t want to.  _ Why _ was he so relieved to hear that. His heart ached and there was a sudden relief and joy and- Oh. Oh  _ no _ . 

Ahnmivah hadn’t been lying about his love for poetry and he had finally found an outlet in Ashivon, who had read dozens of ballads and sonnets, a great deal of those dealing with- 

Good  _ Gods  _ he was blind. He held Ahnmivah closer and purred louder as he felt Ahnmivah’s free hand rub his back gently. Like he was the most precious treasure of all-

“ **HEY CHEVO, HAVE THEY KISSED YET** ?” A very familiar and suddenly very annoying voice demanded from a ground floor window. All three tensed and could only listen as Ashivrahari laughed. 

* * *

_ There is trouble in the wind when the sparrow attempts to make a nest. _ Ahnmivah grumbled at the old saying and it  _ was _ true. He had been honest in his belief that there was room enough for three people in his house.

There was, but only people who weren’t  _ living _ there.

There was  _ not _ enough room for three people  _ and all their stuff. _

So he and his new partners were looking for a house big enough for three. And their stuff. And -Sanga insisted- any unexpected additions that might happen down the line. Ahnmivah didn’t know how that would work, exactly, but was moderately certain Sanga had something figured out. Ashivon definitely needed a poetic view. The three of them needed space. Sanga needed a training yard, and he needed a balcony because people-watching was still his favourite activity. Even now that he wasn’t watching them with speculation in mind any more.

Moving house wasn’t that difficult on a strictly technical basis. All they had to do was shift their stuff from one place to another. The problem was in  _ finding _ the other place.

There were plenty of houses with room enough for three or more. That wasn’t the issue. Some had the balcony, but not the view. Some had the view, but lacked the balcony. Very, very few of them had a yard big enough to grow some fruits and vegetables, hold Sanga’s training and battle classes, and accommodate Ashivon’s need for meditative quiet amongst the greenery and nature.

Intseh had perfected the art of creating artistic edible gardens, that was true, but they were not so great at training grounds. Sanga insisted the spaces she could walk to were enough, but Ahnmivah wanted something perfect.

Some gardens were far too small. Some were too artistic to turn into a training ground. Many had too many statues or columns to easily remove.

“You are way too fussy,” Sanga said at the last place they inspected. “I could have moved all those statues no problem.”

Ahnmivah could just imagine that. He knew from personal experience that she could toss both him  _ and _ Ashivon around like a full sack. He had no doubt whatsoever that she could haul around absolute tons of sculpted stone as if they were baskets of harvest for the markets.

_ He had the growing suspicion that he would greatly appreciate watching it happen, too. _

“Is it too much to want the best for my loves, Ishoko?”

Ashivon said, “We can  _ make _ a house a poem.”

He was getting maybe a little too artistic as he acclimated to Devan-Intseh. Just as Ahnmivah was about to ask for Ashivon to decode that, Sanga pointed. She shouted, “YES!” and took off running.

All he could do was run after her. This was how Ashivon  _ surely _ stayed so fit. Keeping up with Sanga was training in and of itself.

It had the view. It had the balcony. Well, the ghost of a balcony overlooking the bay and a picturesque path to some tidal pools in an isolated cove. It had -theoretically- a garden space big enough for all their needs.

It had also been overgrown with vines and plants so long that it had almost been swallowed up with nature. It had its own  _ ecology, _ by the grace of the small gods.

_ “Saint’s dirt,” _ he muttered in Nital. “This? You want  _ this?” _

“We’ll make it a poem,” soothed Ashivon.

“It’s a disaster zone,” protested Ahnmivah.

Ashivon was smiling, looking over the near-wreckage of standing stone, rotting wood, and  _ so _ many months of fixing it up. “Sanga will  _ love _ working on this place.”

She would. She would be all over it like seagulls on a dead crab. He would be roped in, of course, to help with the heavy lifting, renovating, fixing, redesigning and… everything. He could possibly get as fit as Ashivon in the effort.

_ Hmmm… no more soft sparrow man… _ He could see it now. Compact stomach instead of the soft tummy that lingered despite so many training sessions with Sanga and  _ so _ much running after her to be sure she wasn’t flying headlong into chaos.

Speaking of the inevitable force of nature… Sanga had somehow made it inside the standing ruin and was in the remains of a window hole. Grin wide and shining to defeat the sun. “It’s  _ us,” _ she shouted to them.

Absolute chaos, one solid storm from falling apart, yet defiantly still standing together despite all the tenets of logic and reason. Oh yes. This place was  _ them, _ all right.

They could sleep in his place, and work on this one. 

As a family.

“You have the truth, Ishoko,” he sighed.

THE END


End file.
